


Memento Mori

by TwelveSouffle



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwelveSouffle/pseuds/TwelveSouffle
Summary: Clara is reminded of the inevitable.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald (implied)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Memento Mori

Clara hurried herself and her companion inside the TARDIS, shutting the door behind. She took in a deep breath and sighed in relief. Closing her eyes, she heard a familiar voice in her head.

_ Really, Clara? I knew you were reckless, but I didn’t know you were  _ that  _ reckless _ .

It was the voice of a long-lost friend, Me. It had been years since Clara dropped off Me back at Trap Street. Once, years and years ago, she loved Me. They had their travel and adventures together, but like everything else in the known universe, it ended. Luckily for both Me and Clara, it left off without someone dying. Me decided that she needed to settle down, so she returned back to Trap Street. Her departure broke Clara’s non-beating heart, but over time, that had healed.

The substance that the Kuvriel shot at her during their adventure must have been some sort of hallucination inducer. The first hallucination symptom only appeared about three minutes after initially being shot, so Clara figured that the chemical was Phantasiae or something close to that. To most organisms, Phantasiae would seep through the skin and poison the bloodstream, leading to a fatal death. Luckily for Clara, her bloodstream was frozen in time, and as soon as the poison was injected, the poison would have frozen as well.

_ Well done, Clara. Now you know that you’re going to survive _ , congratulated the voice of Me.  _ But if the Kuvriel shot Licia instead, what would have happened to her? _ Clara winced at the thought. She knew that endings were inevitable, but an ending like that?

Clara knew that there was no god, no angels, and no divine beings watching over her. No heaven, no hell, and no purgatory. There  _ was _ , however, Death. Death was a ruthless and bitter creature, taking lives without regret and without remorse. Very few could escape Death without dire consequences. Clara lost everything when she cheated Death: her job, her family, her lover, and even her own heartbeat. Me was the one person from her previous life that she was able to keep, and even now Clara had lost her. 

No, Clara wouldn’t let Licia die. She wouldn’t let her have the chance.

Licia leaned on the TARDIS’ white console, slowing down to catch her breath. “That was a  _ stupid _ decision, Clara.” She brushed her long blonde hair out of her face. “You don’t just touch the aliens! Even  _ I  _ know that. And I only started this last week.”

“Alright, I didn’t know that the Kuvriels sprayed Phantasiae as a defense mechanism, and now I do,” replied Clara, opening her eyes again and heading back towards the console, trying to avoid eye contact with Licia. 

_ Would you really want to see her get hurt? _ asked Me. 

_ Oh, shut up _ , Clara retorted. She switched a few switches and cranked a few cranks, setting the TARDIS’ course: back to Licia’s flat.

“Phantasiae, what’s that?” questioned Licia. Clara loved that about Licia. Always careful, but still always curious. Licia had the perfect balance of the two attributes, and that was something Clara would always be envious of.

Clara looked up at Licia, before turning back to the console. “A type of hallucinogenic pollen. Deadly for the most part, but I’ll be fine.”

“Wait, hallucinogenic? How do you know that?”

Clara turned back around, and she saw a brunette leaning against the interior wall, glancing at her. She was an inch shorter than Clara’s already petite height. Her long hair was the shade of dark beer, and fell down her back and across her shoulders. Her arms were crossed, and she had a smug look on her face. 

It was Me. The woman didn’t look a day over sixteen, but Clara knew better. That was the trouble with Me’s type of immortality. As soon as she absorbed the Mire technology, Me stopped aging. Whereas the Time Lords would slowly age over thousands of years, Me wouldn’t age a day. However, the Me she knew was half the lifetime of the universe.

Clara blinked and shook her head, and Me was gone. “Because I’m experiencing hallucinations.”

Licia’s eyes widened. “Oh. Do you need anything?”

The brunette pulled down one last crank, and she replied, “Yes, actually. Something tells me that my hallucinations are going to get worse, and I don’t want you to be around for that.”

“What do you mean?”

The TARDIS shook for a moment, lights flickering along the spinning dial of the figurine in the center. Just as soon as it started, it ended. Clara snapped her fingers, and the doors opened to her command.

“Where are we?” said Licia, heading over to the door and peering outside.

“Your flat,” answered Clara, still leaning against the console. “I’ll come get you when I’m through with this.”

Licia gave a concerning look. “You sure about that, Clara? As in being alone.”

Clara nodded. “I’ll be sure to call you if I need anything. I have your number.” Licia sighed and left, closing the door behind her.

Clara’s eyes found her way to the console, tempted to run away. That would be the only true way to guarantee Licia’s safety. If Licia didn’t travel with her, then Clara would not be responsible for her death. Clara didn’t want to see anyone get hurt from her hands.

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?”

Clara’s head flew towards the sound of the voice, and her eyes widened. A man in a robotic suit stood in front of her, his skin warped and barbed with the open wire that attached inside of his flesh. His skin seemed cold and lifeless like a corpse. His eyes, however, were bloodshot red. There was no emotion in his face. Clara knew that even slightly moving his facial muscles would hurt. He could feel the wires and machinery inside of him, and the pain prohibitor was turned off. It was Danny, a former coworker and boyfriend to Clara.

Back when she was human, Clara worked as an English teacher, traveling to the side as a hobby. A few months after starting this job, her school hired the ex-soldier Danny Pink as a maths teacher. Clara and Danny, through the rough beginnings, bonded quickly. 

He was the only person who ever knew about her and the Doctor’s adventures. Not her family, not her friends… Just Danny. (There were also her students, but that’s a long story.)

The Doctor despised Danny, and Danny despised the Doctor. Clara guessed that the only reason why they let her stay with both was because they both made her happy. In fact, she  _ knew _ this. When Danny was killed in a car accident, the Doctor went to hell to attempt to bring him back because Danny made Clara smile. 

This attempt... _ well _ ...didn’t work. 

Long story short, he was revived but lived in constant agony, as a cyberman who could feel. He ended his own life to save thousands, and when he had the chance to come back as a normal living human, he turned it down.

Of course, Clara blamed herself for Danny’s death. She was on a phone call with him when he was initially hit. Like the Doctor, however, she moved on. There was nothing else that could be done.

“What do you mean?” asked Clara. If she still had a heartbeat, then her heart would be racing right now.

“You  _ killed _ me, Clara,” Danny said, not a single ounce of emotion in his face. “How do you sleep at night?”

But  _ no. _ This wasn’t Danny. This was Clara’s head. She shouldn’t give in to her own head.

“I don’t. I can’t,” she replied. “Not since I died.” It was true. With her body in a frozen status, Clara had no need to sleep. 

“You should be glad you can’t. You’ve killed so many people since then. I don’t know how you live with yourself.”

“I move on.”

“Should you, though? Or should you be held accountable?” 

“Danny —”

“You’re just like him, you know? Just like the Doctor,” said Danny, anger finally rising in his voice. His eyebrows furrowed and his fists clenched. “You don’t care about our lives anymore. You just care about the adrenaline rush you get during every adventure.”

“I  _ save  _ people, Danny. I’ve saved dozens of worlds.”

He ignored her. “I used to think you were like me. A soldier, following their officer’s orders. But you’re too much like  _ him  _ to do that.  _ You’re  _ the officer, Clara. And the companions like Licia? They’re the soldiers. They’re the expendable ones.”

At this point, Clara felt her eyes begin to water.

“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

But he was gone. She didn’t know if her words caused him to disappear, or if — 

“Clara,” said a voice with the oh so familiar, gorgeous scottish accent Clara had grown to adore over the two years she had travelled with his face.

She turned around, and her eyes widened before she sighed. He stood in front of her in all of his glory. His wired grey hair had gotten out of control, much fluffier since the last time she saw him in Nevada. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark trousers instead of his classic magician or velvety look. Clara wondered if this was how he looked now, after Clara left him. 

Then there was his sad, blue-gray eyes. It didn’t matter how old or young his faces were. Clara could always tell how old he was from those eyes. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and his soul was thousands of years old.

It was the Doctor. Of course it was the Doctor. A part of her wanted to run up to him and hug him, but she knew better. This wasn’t  _ really _ him.

“Are you here to torment me, too?” asked Clara. 

He shook his head, a soft smile appearing. “No.”

“Then why are you here?”

He took a step forward. “To advise you.”

She looked away, breaking eye contact. “About what?”

“He was right, Clara. You’re exactly like me,” the Doctor replied. “Which means that I’m the only person in the universe who can advise you on how to  _ be _ me.”

She chuckled to herself and looked up at him. He didn’t disappear like the rest of them. Clara let the Doctor get inside her head. No matter what, he would  _ never  _ leave. She assured that ages ago.

“Everyone knew it except us, didn’t they?” asked Clara. “That we we’re  _ too _ alike.”

He nodded. “I suspected it, but no more than you must have. Missy bringing us together was the perfect crime against the universe.”

“She loved every second of it too.” Clara couldn’t help but smile, and the Doctor grinned as well. The Doctor and Clara didn’t reminiscence for very much longer.

“Do you remember all those years ago when we brought Ashildr — “

“Me.”

“ —  _ Me _ back from the dead, and I told you that immortality was everybody else dying?” 

“Yeah. That’s why you gave Me the extra repair kit.” 

“I meant it,” the Doctor said. “You  _ will _ face endings, Clara.”

She sighed. “And what do you do, Doctor?”

“I accept it and move on. But I  _ never  _ forget.”

Clara remembered the time she convinced the Doctor to save Gallifrey. He said that he forgot the number of children that he killed when he initially destroyed the planet. He was a different man back then, and hundreds of years fighting the Siege of Trenzalore had changed him.

“But what if it hurts? What do I do about it then?”

“Remember the happy memories,” the Doctor answered. “The adventures. The way they laughed and smiled. Their voice, their jokes…” He trailed off, gazing at Clara with those  _ stupid  _ eyes. It tore Clara up from the inside, and she wanted to melt down. The last time she saw the Doctor, the memory of her was wiped from him. 

She teared up as she remembered something he told her long ago, about what would’ve happened he ever lost her.  _ The memory of you will hurt so much that I won’t be able to breathe, and I’ll do what I always do. I’ll get in my box, and I’ll run, and I’ll run. In case the pain ever catches up, and every place I go it will be there. _

Clara knew that what he said happened, for a while at least.

He stopped mourning her because he didn’t know that she even existed. He couldn’t remember the way she laughed or smiled or her voice or her  _ stupid _ jokes. He couldn’t remember that one time she horribly imitated his scottish accent, or the other times she helped his social skills with little cards. He couldn’t remember the ice warrior on the subway or the mummy of the orient express. There was nothing there.  _ Just nothing. _

“So is that what you did with me, Doctor?” Clara finally asked. “Accept my death and move on?”

The Doctor smiled sadly. In an instant sliver of time, he disappeared, leaving Clara alone in her thoughts. She sighed, leaning against the console.

He didn’t need to answer, and he didn’t need to. These hallucinations were nothing but her own thoughts being uncovered and information she refused to see. Clara already knew the pain he felt when he lost her and the pain he chose to inflict on others. He couldn’t simply  _ accept _ her death, and if it were the other way around, Clara knew that she couldn’t either. 

_ A passionate and powerful Time Lord, and a woman so very similar to him. _

Clara heard Me’s voice in her head, wondering if it was just a memory or another hallucination.

Did it really matter?

At the end of the day, these hallucinations were right. People she cared about were going to die, and there was nothing that could be done about it. It’s been happening all her life, ever since her mother died of cancer when she was twelve.

Perhaps it was possible to make it stop. If she never let herself care about anyone, then no one could hurt her. It would be simple, too. All she had to do was take off, leaving Licia behind and away from harm. After that, Clara would simply never take on a companion again.

The thought was tempting. Clara had lost so many people in her life, and she dreaded losing more. She stood up straight, pushing various buttons and switches to enter spacetime coordinates to Woman Wept, a planet that froze underneath the beams of a cold star. Her hand reached for the take off crank, her fingers grazing the metal material. 

_ No _ .

She couldn’t.

Mortality kept her centered, reminding her of the inevitable. Mortality reminded her to live in the moment, to treasure every sunset as if it were the last. Without a reminder of mortality, she would become like Missy, unable to care for the lives of others. She would risk and take lives without a second thought. She would become a monster.

Clara shook her head, deleting the coordinates from the destinations and picking up the TARDIS phone instead. She dialed Licia’s number and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Licia!”

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the amount of exposition on canon events. I wrote this as a narrative essay for school, and my English teacher has never seen the show.


End file.
